


The Parabola of Lost Seasons

by pierceplotholes



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Low Chaos Corvo Attano, Low Chaos Daud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 05:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10780377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierceplotholes/pseuds/pierceplotholes
Summary: Daud chose these Whalers for theirdiscretion, not their skill.





	The Parabola of Lost Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> It's 5:30 am, this is the product of a fleeting whim, and apparently is my debut into the Dishonored fandom

Finally, they had the opportunity they'd been waiting for. 

 

With the onset of the plague, the tip Daud had received became low priority. They had needed to find a new base of operations, and doing so was delicate work. They had to keep in balance with the drastic shift in territories of local gangs, after all. This matter, ultimately, was comparatively trivial to the need to settle themselves. The wirey little man had more or less shut himself in for a while, anyways, fearing the plague. 

 

But the Watch had the area relatively cleaned up, the Bottle Street boys had settled in their turf, and Bunting had even left his home for the day. A perfect opportunity. 

 

Daud sent three of his most trusted Whalers. Not necessarily his best, however, as it was their…  _ discretion _ that he desired above all. He wouldn't dare send Billie, as it took no stretch to imagine her reaction. No, it was a simple matter that he’d prefer handled quickly and be done with. Forever. 

 

Blasted Sokolov. 

 

_____

 

Of course it wasn't going to be easy. 

 

They’d been here for hours, watching, waiting. But the thugs had already busted down the door and scoped out the building hours before they’d arrived. Anything shiny had been pulled, so now the Whalers heard only complaints of the unyielding safe within. It was likely that their target still remained inside, but the lack of accessible windows made it impossible to breach. 

 

Split up from one another, they watched hawkishly for the gang boys to tire and go home for the night. They whispered prayers to the Void that they could finish this before Bunting came back and complicated things further. 

 

A Bottle Streeter yelled an insult, and Tynan made the mistake of paying it no mind. A flicker of blue caught the corner of his eye, however, and his attention snapped to the Whaler in the opposite building. He wasn't by the balcony anymore.

 

Unease immediately settled into his chest and he scanned the adjacent area frantically. In the past days, there had been reports of a masked assailant. Some attributing them to the infiltration of the Abbey and sudden excommunication of the High Overseer, which is no easy feat.

 

The bounty on that one was enough to provide food and elixir for the Whalers for weeks, and Tynan was beginning the suspect the reason why… Akila had disappeared from her post as well. The glimpse of a dark figure in a skull mask confirmed his suspicions. 

 

Drawing his sword and controlling his breathing, he forced himself to stay calm. There was a second balcony entrance a few steps into the apartment he stood in, facing his back. The vulnerability made his hair stand up beneath his leathers, and he took a step back towards a wall-

 

And bumped into a body. 

 

Quick as lightning, an arm wrapped around his throat, and despite his struggle everything soon went dark. 

 

__________

 

Tynan was shook awake. Noticing the gray coat informed him it was Akila who did so, and a pounding headache followed soon after. 

 

“The Bottle Street boys have gone quiet inside,” she informed him. A voice from the balcony, Connor, added, 

 

“The night is setting. This may be our only chance.”

 

Tynan stood and nodded, gesturing for the others to Blink after him. 

 

Inside was a mess. It seemed Bunting had either the lack of money or care to maintain the state of his home, for the floors creaked and rotted beneath their feet. Now, the dilapidated building had the extra decor of snoring gangsters littering the floor.  _ Snoring.  _

A quick check revealed either an empty sleep dart or a bruised neck for each thug, an admittedly mystifying predicament. Perhaps the work of that masked assailant? There was no way to know. 

 

Pulling themselves back to the task at hand, Tynan ordered them to spread out and search for what they came for. Akila muttered that it might be behind the aforementioned safe. What a mess that would be. 

 

Tynan spied the other Master Assassin running his finger across the plaque of an empty frame and swallowed down panic.

 

A room to the side housed what appeared to be Bunting’s bedroom. Above it lay an empty frame, one that matched the other empty Sokolov piece. He decided against speculating what reasons a man would have for hanging a portrait  _ there _ , of all places. Artists are an odd sort, after all.

 

Tynan’s eyes slid reluctantly to the inscription, not wanting to read it, but knowing that he must. 

 

"Daud and the Parabola of Lost Seasons"

 

Fuck.

 

__________

 

Akila and Connor stood behind him, and he could feel their nerves. 

 

When Tynan had bowed, offering the customary salute to their master, he didn't raise himself back up. It was as close as he could get to throwing himself at Daud’s feet without humiliating himself further. Back aching, he gave his report. By some miracle, he managed without letting his voice shake.

 

“Gone.”

 

How Master Daud could put so much accusation into one word was a mystery. But he did it, and the Whaler could  _ feel  _ the two behind him all but shake in their boots. Back screaming, Tynan righted himself slowly, almost afraid to lay his eyes on the assassin before him. 

 

“As the rest of the works remained untouched by the Bottle Street gang, we assume it was the work of the masked one, sir.”

 

Daud faced away from them, but the way he tensed and clenched his gloves revealed much of his agitation. 

 

“The one who you let escape.  _ After _ , disabling all three of you,” he ground out. 

 

“Y-Yes, sir.”

 

The black leather of Daud’s glove creaked under the force of the fist he made. Tynan felt a cold chill down his spine and he had a fleeting desire to Blink as far away as he could.

 

After a terrifying few seconds of silence, their master managed, 

 

“Get. Out.”

 

The three Whalers disappeared instantly.

 

__________

 

Daud finally turned to lean his hands on his desk, controlling his temper. He’d been  _ this close _ to being free of that damned painting.  _ This. Close. _

  
Flinging paperwork off his desk in a fit of what he pretended was purely rage, Daud indulged in the desire to dirty his blade with Sokolov’s wretched blood. Right after he ripped the accursed painting from this masked man’s cold fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> If y'all are wondering if I'm done with TES, have no worries. I've got something BIG I'm working on. It isn't even porn!


End file.
